There are all nature of webpages out there on the internet (so I’ve heard…). Some of them have serious, noble intentions. Most do not. I am not quite sure where “The Daily Rant” fits in, but its certainly not at the top of the heap. When I graduated from high school, there were four websites on the internet in North America (1993). Now, I HAVE, or control, four websites myself. The internet has spawned quite the revolution in the mass production and distribution of poor spelling, bad grammar, screwed up logic, inappropriate photos, horrifically saccharine .midi songs, along with someone’s page devoted to their pet skink (I’m imagining here…). While the internet was originally created with a noble interest in communicating honorable ideas, it has since degenerated into a free for all misinformation distribution machine devoted to sex, stolen songs, pyramid schemes. This doesn’t bother me terribly. Many might consider my own website here quite the waste of time. Sometimes I do.

I do recognize that the internet has become a very good way to get your ideas out to the masses. It is also a very efficient manner in which to advertise your wedding (ouch…segue whiplash).. Take my friend’s website, www.jasonfriesen.com for example. This is a pretty good way to tell people how to get there, etc. However, it was a little unconventional in some respects…

Actually, it is quite a nice site, with a little bit of humor mixed in. This is always welcome. However, imagine my surprise when I discovered a section devoted to ME. This seemed odd. After all, this was the “Jason Friesen” website wasn’t it? Why was there a section with MY name on it? I innocently clicked on the link, expecting a link to my site or something (still had no idea why there would be one there but… whatever). Well, I didn’t exactly find a link to my site. Now, I feel that I must defend what you will find there. First of all, that is not MY picture. I have no idea who that is, only that his image will continue to haunt my dreams for quite some time! I actually found this rather amusing. Giving my phone number was a nice touch too. It became less amusing 10 minutes later, when I got a notification email from the bride telling everyone (a long list of other recipients) that the site existed. So I figured that link would disappear. It didn’t. Suddenly, this became public exposure.

The thing that bothers me the most about this was that I didn’t think of doing it to him first.

So how does one counter such a blatant bout of internet misinformation (Ive never even SEEN a sea monkey…)?? Well, look for the “Unofficial Jason Friesen Website” to be unveiled soon. I intend to have a little fun with it.

Writing this entry was a little more forced that usual. I don’t think it is one of my best. However, I do have a rather good excuse. I wrote two papers over the weekend and Monday, and I fear that all of my good sentences have left my fingertips already. Its just so bloody awful to write a paper where you have to fight for every sentence, every new idea. I have really enjoyed writing papers the entire time I have been doing them (although 4 in 5 days last semester was a little harrowing). Writing is one of the few times in my academic “career” where I can say that the effort I put in always translates into good marks. I wish exams were the same. The paper I wrote at the end of last week, the one that fought back and nearly won, was for my Environmental Physiology of Animals class. The paper was entitled: Physiological and Behavioural Adaptation to Desiccation in the Intertidal Prosobranch Gastropod Littorina. Im sure you will agree this was a most fascinating topic.

The other “paper” I wrote I did all in one day. 14 pages, excluding figures. The thing with this one was that I actually enjoyed it. The idea was to come up with all the habitat requirements of Marten (Martes americana), and decide how a fictitious valley should be logged (after saving a set amount of untouchable land) in order to protect as much of the Marten population in the valley as possible. So, what if I don’t know anything about Marten requirements or logging practices? No problem, we weren’t supposed to research it, and we were just to use our prior knowledge about wildlife requirements and ecological principles in general. Actually, coming up with theoretical ideas was really quite interesting. Certainly more interesting than parroting back research in bits and pieces in order to form a coherent mass of words. Im glad that the last paper I have to write before I graduate was an interesting one. The best ones go to the Ministry of Environment, where they will likely be ignored.

I’ve run out of words and bad ideas, so I now return you to the year 2001, already in progress….

I’m more than slightly pissed off that, in a moment of inattentiveness, I ran right into a protruding trailer hitch in the CementLand parking lot earlier this week. After a few choice audible expletives, I continues on my (at this point not so “merry”) way, limping slightly. I don’t recommend the experience. I would like the owner of that truck to know that I hate him/her! My now swollen and colorful knee would like to pass on a slightly more intense message, but I don’t think it would be appropriate to repeat it.

Well, now, a couple days since I my fateful collision with the trailer hitch, I am no longer limping. Yipee!

Well, today was an interesting time. Probably the highlight of this was when I tobogganed on my ass down a 10 foot, steep rock slope to the trail below. I should point out that I don’t wish you to try this at home, should you have a rock slope handy. That region of my body has turned all kinds of nice colors, and the fact that I did this with ample witnesses made the situation even more interesting. Now, this was in Lighthouse park in West Vancouver. I went down the very same slope many years ago. It was raining then, the rocks were wet, I was wearing uncomfortable boots with poor gripping soles. Did I fall then? NOoooo! Today, good shoes, dry rocks, and I fall down! Eyewitness said that I put my hands at my side and confronted gravity “luge-style”. Maybe I should switch to that winter sport rather than continue running? No, I think not. However, I doubt I’ll be running anytime immediately. Limping maybe. At least nobody laughed. Maybe next time I’ll appreciate a mere trailer hitch collision a little more!

I’ve always wondered about the phenomenon of why “dumb” people have an affinity for hanging out with “smart” ones, but the reverse isn’t true. I think it has something to do with the intelligence gradient. This is similar to a chemical gradient in that things travel from high concentrations to low concentrations. The speed of this transfer depends upon the steepness of the gradient. The “dumb” person has nothing to lose, they can’t lose what little intelligence they have, they can only gain more (sadly, it is but a temporary respite from what would be a good golf score, but is a poor I.Q). The smart person, however, has everything to lose. The reason they look visibly pained by a confrontation with “dumbness” is because their intelligence is being sucked right out of their eyes. Prolonged exposure to “dumbness”, say at the CementLand information counter, will put a smart person into “intellectual shock”. This is usually what has happened when you see someone stumbling away from a counter (be it in CementLand or some other bureaucratic institution) with a stressed/pained look on their face. Luckily this isn’t a permanent detriment, the intelligence comes back quickly, but it might be sorely missed while it is gone (hence… the babbling). I’m not saying that I fall into either the “smart” or the “dumb” category, in fact, I’m probably somewhere right in the middle. “Dumbness” bothers me, but not at the debilitating level of someone with excess intelligence. I also like to be around smart people, and my intermediate intelligence level is not too painful for them. So I have the “best” of both worlds really, although some might argue otherwise.

You know when you get a popsicle or something in those paper wrappers? The ends tend to stick together when you open them. So, I have taken to blowing into them to get the wrapper to open up. This works great! However, I don’t recommend that you utilize this particular methodology in the opening of a bag of garlic powder. Blowing into it might not be the most effective way of opening it without extreme pain. Now, I am not admitting that this happened to me, but I uhh… have “heard and read” that the garlic powder tends to blow up into your face. This tend, I imagine, to get up into your nose, and into your eyes. Neither one is very comfortable.

I’m starting to rethink which side of the intelligence gradient I am on. Damn.

On a completely unrelated note, something interesting happened last week on my way out of CementLand. I was walking up the hallway with a number of other students, class had just gotten out so there were more than usual. This was 7:30PM, or something. I really didn’t think that we were generating any sort of horrible noise levels, but this professor burst out of his classroom and shushed us! I said to him – “its a hallway – why don’t you close the DOOR”! Apparently he hadn’t thought of that one. I hope he isn’t teaching a course in logic or something….

I’m starting to think that I shouldn’t drive in North Vancouver. Last weekend I drove out to Deep Cove. I seem to be drawn there for some reason, I don’t know why. Perhaps it is because I have such a good view of it from where I now live. Actually, standing on my front lawn, I have a great view of the north shore mountains as far east as the Golden Ears. I can also see all the way up Burrard Inlet through Port Moody. I can also see well past Deep Cove. This isn’t a bad place to be in terms of a view, and I can even see Mt. Baker from here on a clear day! Anyway, all this isn’t the point. I got to Deep Cove and…. the damn tide was IN! Well, this wasn’t conducive to the sort of “looking around” that I wanted to do, so I went for a drive, only to be rear ended by a grossly inattentive driver. I stopped to let some guy back into a parking spot (parallel), and I saw her coming up behind me. I knew what was going to happen, but I did (slightly) enjoy the look of panic that came over her when she finally looked up to see me looming large in her window! Slam the brakes, screech the tires, hit me in the rear!

Now, I have bounced FOUR cars off that same rear bumper, and NEVER have I had any damage done to my car. This person, however, broke one of her lights (that’s what you get for lowering your car!). She was annoyed to say the least. I don’t’ know, it was difficult for me to not say something like: slow down and watch where you are going! I think I’m getting old. In under a month I’ll be 26, which is feeling close and closer to that number 30. Egad!

So, I got rear-ended there, I received my one and only speeding ticket there (57km/hr in a 50 zone!), and the damn tide is in every time I go to Deep Cove. Dammit!

I was in a restaurant last weekend and got a little annoyed when the waitress couldn’t believe that I ordered the chicken appetizer. She couldn’t find it when I gestured to the menu. So I told her it was right there – at the bottom. I put my finger on it, and at that point realized that I was pointing at smoked salmon, which, I realized at that point, was what I had intended on ordering in the first place. There was no chicken. Doh! I think I should eat in restaurants more often, I apparently need the practice. I also soon realize that I don’t like smoked salmon. Damn.

In another horrendous example of complete ineptitude, I realized that I didn’t have insurance on my belongings for the last 20 days. Well, this isn’t my fault this time. I had phoned the insurance company last month and I changed my address etc. They assured me that everything was done, and I had to give them my phone number when I got one. So the problem became apparent when I phone them back and they had NO RECORD OF ME! So I got a little mad, and they apologized profusely, and I got my insurance eventually. Of course, and you might have predicted this, my rates went up because of my new location. I have to pay $22 dollars a year more, which isn’t a big deal. Strangely, my telephone bill went DOWN 22 cents. What’s up?

We now return you to the year 2001, already in progress….

Well, recently I moved. I relocated from my previous place in Coquitlam because of the vermin situation there, even though the last thing I really wanted to do was move. This is still the case, and I’ve been in my new place for a week. Perhaps that is why I haven’t unpacked anything yet (except the computer, TV, VCR…. you can see where my priorities lie). So there is the box mountain, full of stuff that I know I have but I cannot find. I just don’t feel like unpacking it. This was all on my mind when I was packing it… knowing that I would have to unpack it. Maybe I’m just lazy, but lately I’ve been showing less motivation than a professor with tenure.

I might just be still reeling from the stresses of moving day. The following is an email that I send a friend the day after I moved. He thought I should put it up here. I admit that it has a certain “quality”, but this suggestion also came from someone who rewrote the manual on fire safety. He crosses out “keep calm”, suggests panic, and then says that you have to remember to 1) scream, 2) run, and 3) pretend to fly. Is this the demographic that I am pandering to here?

Subject: Re: so how was the first night?
Date: Fri, 2 Mar 2001 14:43:02 -0800 (PST)

> I trust there were no wild goats or rabid cougars running through your
> place in the dead of night?

I won’t get into this for long, but you can sketch out a story through the following points:

– 4 car loads of boxes
– 1 truck load of furniture, with 2 leaky tarps
– 1 monsoon for the whole afternoon when it was only 1 degree
– Snow on Burnaby mountain
– Leaky tarps = soaked mattress, box spring, couch, bookshelves, bedding
– 1 makeshift nest next to the gas fireplace on the FLOOR!
– 1 phone line that is “hooked up” according to Telus, but doesn’t have a dial tone
– 1 appointment for next week with Telus
– 1 appointment costing 100$ (starting…)
– 1 bank card snafu so I didn’t have any money after bank closed
– 1 day without food because of above snafu
– I still haven’t eaten, and its the next day!
– Lack of internet access!
– If you set your fridge too high, it freezes everything!
– Once a frozen cucumber thaws, all hell breaks loose!
– Hardwood floors above me. This creates certain acoustic problems (for me)
– I dog that either barks constantly, or is apparently learning to simulate an entire wolf pack single handedly
– The dog is doing a good job
– Unsympathetic landlords concerning the “included” cable that isn’t
actually included. They claim they will look into it next week, sometime.
– 1 broken VCR (apparently)
– A paper due Tuesday. Oh, did I mention that I can’t get my printer to accept paper?
– I’m going golfing tomorrow, hopefully I’ll be struck by lightning.
– There is no light in my bathroom so I showered in the dark. Thats not something i recommend.
– Wild goats and cougars would have actually made something interesting. I could have eaten them.
– I would kill to have traded all of the above for another presentation, even though the first one wasn’t fun

The presentation in question was for my BISC 445 class, Environmental Physiology of Animals. I did a presentation on the “SELECTION FOR HEMATOCRIT PERCENT IN THE HOUSE MOUSE”. This, despite what you must be thinking, was actually interesting. However, it was not what I desired to be doing and preparing for on the day before I moved. It started off interesting, as the TA asked me to “take my hat off”. I thought he was kidding, and then he asked again. This was shaping up to be a major disaster. So I said something like: ” I don’t want to inflict what is under here on these ‘good people’ “. He persisted, so I lifted my hat slightly, and he suggested that I put it back on! Ha! This was not the way that I was hoping to start out, but the rest of it went OK. I didn’t lose consciousness, knock the overhead to the floor, or have any manner of zipper accident (this time).

One of the things that is a major pain in the rear when you are moving is the fact that you have to change your phone number. Well, a pain for other people since I couldn’t remember my old one anyway…! So now I am no longer in the phone book. Anybody who is anybody is in the phonebook. Not me. Damn! It could be worse, I could miss out on an exciting experience that everyone is talking about.

Last week we had an earthquake. Rather, Seattle had an earthquake, but we just kind of got a subtle feel of it. This made me mad, not because earthquakes suck, not because it damaged Seattle, but because I didn’t feel it. So here were all the questions: “Did you feel the earthquake? Where were you during the earthquake?” etc. So this is what pissed me off, I missed the whole thing. With all these questions on that, and the next day, I had little to share. Oh yeah! Well, I saw it on TV! It just doesn’t have the same impact. Nobody wants to talk to someone who missed the whole big earth moving experience! I have felt an earthquake before. I was sitting on the ground floor of my parent’s house, and felt this rolling up and down. The drapes were moving, as was the lamp shade. I really knew what it was, yet it wasn’t of that sort of magnitude to really get the adrenaline (aren’t we supposed to call it epinephrine now?) flowing. So I was sitting there kind of grinning to myself that, hey – that was an earthquake! I was watching TV, and this one (in 1995 or 1996 or something…) was also centered down in Washington state. It even disrupted a Mariners game. Naturally, the media down there was all over it, and I was watching this chaos unfold on TV when the phone rang. So I got to act like an expert with this friend who called for confirmation that this was indeed an earthquake. Fun stuff.

So, I missed the earthquake, but I have an old earthquake story to tell you. It kind of like when you start to talk about something that makes you feel bad, and everyone else jumps up with similar story. I know exactly how you feel! I had this happen to me a few years ago… blah blah…. Yeah, I do it too, but its REALLY annoying!

I have been hearing a lot in the media for the last few years about “rage”. Air-rage, road-rage, shopping cart rage… I have also noticed my own behaviour change as I drove 2 hours a day to get to school, as I relocated at night to avoid the “vermin situation” at my old place. My driving became a lot less courteous, I occasionally yelled at other drivers. While I do not condone such behaviour, I can now see why it occurs. However, road rage makes me really mad. I get cut off by some guy trying to merge onto the freeway going 50, while everyone else is going 100, and he gets really pissed at me for honking? Really? So, while I don’t think I have road rage myself, I think I might have something else…. While I hate the media and it ample tossing about of the term “rage”, I think its time I name what it is what I have with like terminology. So, I think I have Rage-Rage^TM. Nothing makes me madder than other people getting mad, especially if it is for no reason.

Have I gone completely bonkers?

I’ll spare you the Valentine’s Day rant. Nobody needs to hear that.

“The Daily Rant” had quite an interesting time on Saturday. I had noticed for a few days that the Papers section had been getting an extraordinary amount of hits compared to usual. This wasn’t unwelcomed, it was just strange. However, it DID seem odd that the Papers section would get about 25 hits in one day, and the front page only 5. This seemed to indicate that people were going DIRECTLY to the Papers section. Still, I managed to ignore the obvious reason for a while longer. Then came the “anonymous tip”!
Apparently someone in the BISC 307 class at CementLand had “gleefully” (I’ll bet!) stumbled upon my website, and had noticed that four of the papers in my Papers section were the ones that THEY were supposed to be writing this semester (one of which was due on Monday). My penchant for bookmarking my website (in a shameless bid for self promotion) at every computer that I use at CementLand probably increased the likelihood for such a finding. So my “anonymous tipster” pointed out to me over email that my intellectual property was being pilfered by petty plagiarizing miscreants! She may have used different words, however.

So what to do now? Clearly I was being stolen from, a fact that I was not nearly as concerned with as the potential for my rump to be utilized as a punching bag by an overzealous CementLand bureaucrat or other miscellaneous employee. Offended by being called “miscellaneous”? Hell – I am referred to as a NUMBER! I imagined being vigorously caned in public, bent over as the switches and belts rained down. This might be even worse than the figurative caning that all CementLand students know and love. In actuality, I’ll bet that it is the obvious contempt that I have for much of the CementLand administration on this page that would potentially land me in hot water before any intellectual thievery by physiology paper plunderers.

So, one of my main initial reactions was that I could be under the “jurisdiction” of some sort of Academic Dishonesty Policy, although I cannot really fathom why (they probably don’t need a reason). My other reaction was: “hey! this might make a good update” (its gotten bad boys and girls!).

It was obvious that these four papers had to be pulled, but what should I do in order to replace them? I thought it just a tad underachieving to just pull them off, and leave nothing in their place. A number of ideas immediately developed…

You know those annoying popup windows that people have on their sites (Geocities ads etc.)? Now how about those sites that REALLY overdo the pop window add assault? Hmmm…. So I was going to have around 10 of those things popup, all loading…. something. What to load? Well, I pictures that some of these paper pilferers would potentially be paper pilfering in the CementLand computer bunker. I thought of having some kind of “dirty” pictures in there, but that just seemed a little unsavory to actually have on my site (it would deviate too much from the “normal” crap). Also, an “interesting” picture might only elicit a head bob or two as they realize just what they are looking at. This certainly wouldn’t attract much attention (and potential embarrassment) from other people in the lab. I thought a sound file might be more appropriate. So I downloaded, and discovered that it was remarkably easy to find, the audio from the restaurant scene from “When Harry Met Sally”. You know the one.

I imagined the audio assault that one would experience as they attempted to clot the ever growing gush of popup windows. I imagined the attention that this might bring by others in the dingy CementLand library computer bunker. Then I thought of the children….

Actually, I didn’t. What I did think of was the user of my page with honest intentions. These papers DO get read occasionally by legitimate users. Did I want to assault them too? Well, I don’t get as many visitors as I might like, so I decided to come up with a better solution.

I scanned my middle finger. 🙂

I keep wondering if it would be a good idea for fast food outlets to have an overhang on the roof by their drive through windows. You see, it has been known to rain once or twice a year here in BC, and I always manage to position the edge of their roof right over my open window. If they would just put a few extra square feet of roof on their buildings, I might not have to wipe up a rainflood every time I patronize their establishment! Is this too much to ask?

Speaking of drive through’s – I was at a White Spot the other day. Pulled up to the window and was paying for it, when one girl in the window said I looked better without “the hat”. Well, this may very well be true, but what is a complete stranger commenting on it for? So this girl disappeared and another said: ” I guess you must like our burgers!” This was also confusing, so I asked: “Since I ordered two of them?” “No”, she said, “because you come here a lot!” Well, this was also sort of confusing, considering that I have only been to that particular place three times, and while both of these people were there on both occasions, I have no idea why I implanted enough notice in their brains to suggest a response about my lack of headwear at that moment. I’m still puzzled. I wonder what will happen next time I go there…. ?

Lately I have been thinking the evils of bread. That’s right! The bread may sit in all its doughy subversiveness right there in your kitchen, yet many have not pondered its inherently evil qualities and intents!

Recently in a magazine at CementLand (evil in its own right…) I read about the evils of one appliance associated with bread: the toaster. The following is an excerpt:

Will the toaster swallow the slice, then hold it in its stubborn grip until it’s a hunk of smoking charcoal? How many times in a row will you have to insert a slice, only to see it instantly pop back up again? Set the dial to “Well Done”, and the “toast” that emerges five long minutes later is pale yellow. Exactly! It is this very duel of wits between man and machine, the struggle to outguess the little bastard’s endless treacheries, that snaps the dozing mind awake every morning, sharpening it for the challenges of the day ahead. (Time – Bruce McCall, December 4, 2000).

Then I read about another evil bread thing…Look what it made this guy do!

“I do touch too much bread, yes, more than the next person.” These were the words of Samuel Feldman, a.k.a. the Cookie Crumbler, after being convicted of poking and squeezing backed goods at Philadelphia supermarkets.

Well, there were so many burgeoning ideas about the evils of bread that I turned to the internet in order to straighten out the melee in my head. I found a remarkable amount of material on the internet about the evils of bread! Turns out it wasn’t such an original idea after all. So, rather than give my own ideas on the evils of bread, I’ll give other peoples. So much for taking personal responsibility.

1. More than 98 percent of convicted felons are bread eaters.
2. Fully HALF of all children who grow up in bread-consuming households score below average on standardized tests.
3. More than 90 percent of violent crimes are committed within 24 hours of eating bread.
4. Bread has been proven to be addictive. Subjects deprived of bread and given only water to eat begged for bread after only two days.
5. Bread is often a “gateway” food item, leading the user to “harder” items such as butter, jam, cheese and even cold ham.
6. Bread has been proven to absorb water. Since the human body is more than 90 percent water, it follows that eating bread could lead to your body being taken over by this absorptive food product, turning you into a soggy, gooey bread-pudding person.

Avoid the bread!

This week I managed to go golfing twice! This might not be possible in most of the rest of Canada at this point in the year, yet here in the Vancouver area it is around 10 degrees C above zero and sunny! Now, the rest of my life sucks right now, as I am trying to find a new place to live since the rise of the rodent infestation in my place. This is going badly, and I don’t expect I will be able to find a place by the end of the month. Damn. Still…. I went golfing!

Earlier I came up with the idea that the making of a New Year’s resolution would become much more effective if I followed a few guidelines. Now, lets point out first that my New Year’s resolution was to run in several races (approximately 10k each) and to prepare myself for said races. Actually following through on such assertions have proved to be an insurmountable obstacle in past years. So, I managed to come up with these ideas:

1. Tell other people about my New Year’s resolution.
2. Actually find someone else to run with (its just a little less boring that way).
3. Set a goal (ie. 10k in around 50 minutes).
4. Actually PAY for entrance in some races – a monetary motivator as well as the possibility of public embarrassment.

Immediately I became aware of a flaw in this strategy- it worked. You see, to present this kind of thing to others, only to have it fail, at least illustrates some effort in the process. However, since this strategy worked, I have been running…. running… and running. Well, a victim of my own invention, I was immediately harassed by those who I had told I would soon begin running. Are you running yet? Have you gone for a run? Where have you been running? How fast do you run a mile? Are you going for a run today? And on and on. Actually, ALL of the above steps have been successful, with the exception of the last one. Its not as though I haven’t tried, it just that I haven’t gotten others motivated and down to the point where we will actually enter a race. I fully expect this to occur within weeks, but it hasn’t happened yet. There was one race I was planning on running here in Vancouver, but due to the failure of some friends to NOT schedule their wedding plans around MY running plans, it will not be something I am able to do. Shucks.

Still, there are plenty of other races, both here and in the Valley, and by paying for entrance to such races, I hope to motivate myself beyond the three times a week running I am doing now. Is there an endorphin junkie lurking within me somewhere?

I am not someone who swears out loud very often. Well, not with the “worse” words anyway. I don’t see the point in doing it. It bothers me when others do it (except perhaps when they have a good reason). So, imagine my surprise when I found myself getting a warning from the security ape at the Royal Skank about it. The suggestion was along the lines that, if I did it again, I would be asked to leave. What had happened was, while at the bank machine, I “asked it” for 20 dollars, which it gave. However, what came out looked and felt like play money, with some kind of weird redesign on it. I cannot adapt well to change, and looking at the new Canadian 10 dollar bill, I exclaimed: “What the fuck is this?” While I did not dive to the depraved depths of yelling “I can’t take it anymore!!” out loud in public, it was still a profoundly diminished moment of my integrity, such as it is.

Actually having something happen to you that you have seen in others, and found inexcusable, often changes your own perspective on the event. So when I see people with wet… “spots” on their clothing, I feel differently than I used to, because it has happened to me.

Imagine standing up in a moderately crowded cafeteria only to become painfully aware of a growing “damp” area just below your waist. Now, I can blame this on the rather vast quantities of iced tea that I drink, yet having clothing soiled in such a manner, publicly no less, is not an experience that I would with upon anyone. I also blame the problem on wide mouth cans they are forcing upon us these days – so that we can force even more of their overly-expensive beverage payload down out gullets. The problem, you see, is that when I am even slightly inattentive to the wide mout presentation of a can’s opening, I tend to misalign my mouthparts and the opening. This can create spills, as it did last week. You’ve really gotta watch those wide mouth cans – they’ll strike when you least expect it.

Sorry, that I must obstinately point that out. Someone younger yet “wiser” pointed out to me that “…the majority of mankind decided the millennium was last year, I guess it is.” First, I would like to point out that myhaving utilized that dirtiest of all words, “mankind”, is in order to quote this person accurately (I swear!). I remember back when this page was first starting that I got a lot of crap over it. Deal with it, even though I have decided to walk close to the fire once again. If the majority of “mankind” decided to jump off a bridge… would you too? A lot of the population at large believes things that are untrue, and yet are reported in the media anyway. So the 1999/2000 New Year was touted as the “New Millennium” in the media… so what? Just because everyone else cannot count just doesn’t mean that I have to follow the same path. Of course, last New Years Eve, I was at a party surrounded by friends who, presumably, believed that they were ushering in a new millennium. I didn’t decide to raise the issue then and even though I felt like celebrating, it wasn’t because of a new millennium. This year, the 2000/20001 New Years Eve, where was I? Channel surfing! Damn, maybe I should have swallowed all that millennium tripe last year?

Still, somehow everything feels the same as it did in 2000. Everything tastes the same. Everything looks the same. Everything smells the same. I am still writing 1999 on my updates at the beginning, on my cheques, and presumably soon on my class notes. Maybe I’m stuck in the past. Maybe I’m losing what little of my mind is actually left at this point?

I noticed that a rather large quantity of music I listen to on purpose was created either before I was born or shortly thereafter. Not all that much of it comes from the 90’s onward. Is this because I was born too late, have a weird taste in music, or is it because a great deal of the music nowadays is complete regurgitated, “done before”, unoriginal crap? I tend to think of it as the latter, preferring to externalize the blame. Maybe I am just getting old. Kids these days! They don’t know the real meaning of….. I’d better stop.

One of the things that happened over exam period and Christmas break was the infiltration of vermin into my place. I was not all that amused to hear a “somethingortother” (a technical, biological term) gnawing in the walls at 3 in the morning! Then it went away, but a couple of days later I woke up to a mouse playing paw-hockey with a hamburger wrapper NEXT TO MY BED! Those things are fast! Of course, I’d scamper away from my wrapper prize too if a half naked partially psychotic Homo sapiens was pursuing me waving a steel-toed boot! Well, needless to say, this did not have a relaxing effect on my day, nor my sleeping the rest of the night.A friend of mine, in his usual comforting style, said the following:

“I can just picture you….Hockey helmet on, Umpire’s chest pad, gloves,
knee pads, flashlight, a knife taped to the end of a broomstick, hiding
behind an overturned couch waiting to ambush a little mouse. You are a soldier!”

Right. I’m a soldier and he’s a jackass who has a way with words. I take his insolence because of the entertainment value that it frequently affords me.Well, in the end, the forces of evil (me) triumphed over the forces of nature (mouse). SNAP!

I feel obligated to point out a glaring omission in my last update. I should have mentioned that attempting to write four papers in one week should be left up to the professionals. DON’T try this at home! I lost 10 pounds that week, even though my caloric intake remained the same. Wow – screw those new fangled diets like the Atkins diet – writing papers is the way to go for weight loss. Don’t write papers without first being checked out by your doctor! We now return to our irregularly scheduled programming.

The other night I was standing out side the BookBunker^TM at CementLand^TM. They have all these cement planters out there, which actually attempts to alleviate the dreariness of the locale, if that were possible. However, at 10 P.M, there were so many rats running from planter to planter, it was hard to count them all. I estimated between 8 and 10 rats, just in that one area. Healthy, fit looking rats too. These fat meaty rats would make a Survivor contestant proud. Today I heard a rumor that they were investigating the possibility of filming the 3rd installment of the Survivor television series at Cement, er… RatLand^TM. Even while rumor has it that a contestant nearly died in the currently being filmed Australia version, I suspect that such a location as CementLand^TM would be even more mentally arduous. I don’t know what “games” they would make the contestants go through for “immunity” but it would probably be something like being “the one who listens to the teleregistration voice the longest without going nuts”, or the first to actually get a straight answer from the bureaucracy. Of course, it would probably have to air on one of those upper cable channels, because of its disturbing content. Hmmm… the rats have it good methinks.

Ever since I was a kid people have asked me things like: “what are you going to do when you grow up?”. Of course, now the question has evolved into “when are you going to grow up?”. The answer is the same, however, since I don’t care for the question. More frequent recently has been the annoying “what are you going to do when you graduate”. The real answer is: whatever I can. I have never said with certainly about what I want to do when I “grew up” either. Since this usually prompts more interrogation, I have evolved a different response that usually defers the question for a while. Then people start talking of a Masters degree. Sigh.

My recent response (and I realize that it is to a valid question) has been that I want to live in a fridge box on the side of the road. Usually there is a puzzled look which I respond to by saying “Its OK! I already have the box picked out”. Some people play along and ask what I will do about water repellency. This is truly an excellent question, and I would give them points if there were only a point system present. The answer, of course, is lamination.

So imagine, if you are still with me, taking my mighty fridge box down to Staples or some airport hanger equivalent. I haul the thing up to the counter, and announce that I would like it laminated. I express confusion that this sort of thing is not present on the wall price list. What? They don’t laminate boxes? But what am I supposed to do about water repellency? They claim they won’t laminate my beloved fridge box. Sigh.

Then I would point out that I could thwart water infiltration via a tarp. However, I would point out, tarps look TACKY! How am I supposed to ooze style and decorum with an orange or blue tarp over my fridge box? Besides, tarps tend to leak eventually. They don’t have the same water repellent zeal as a laminated piece of corrugated cardboard. There quite simply is nothing more waterproof than a laminated fridge box. Geez! Don’t kids these days learn anything useful in school?

Of course, confronted by such staggeringly powerful logic the simple minds behind the counter at Staples would crumble before my cognitive greatness (they are still probably spinning over attempts to write the number seven properly). Lamination would then occur. Boy would that be a sight to behold – a glistening, freshly laminated fridge box! I could even tack my SFU Biology BSc. and extended Psychology minor inside of it. Then I would just sit and wait for the employers to come a knockin’.

Besides, people are always telling me that during a job search “difference” and “standing out” is generally a good thing. You need to get noticed. Won’t the employers wet themselves with glee when they discover a sturdy chap with a laminated fridge box knocking on their door? Getting noticed is important. This is why I hand out my resume on hunter orange paper – the way to get your resume to stand out! This has been much more successful than the popup resume of a few years back, or the interpretive dance slide show. Its difficult to point out your computer skills with an interpretive dance. If you’ve ever tried it, you know. I never seem to stick the landing.

These seem a little unconventional in the way of tactics don’t they? I know, I get that a lot.

One of my professors routinely starts the class five minutes late. He is a very nice guy but how much valuable instruction time am I being robbed of? Well – I am taking four classes and my tuition is $1045 for his semester. Now, ignoring the effect of recreation and other student fees, this means each class costs $261.25. Since this class is costing me roughly 20 cents per minute of instruction, this five minutes of class wasted means that I am being screwed out of $26.13. Now, someone in my class suggested that we send the SFU administration a bill for this amount. I want my $26.13!! Of course, I think that this might not be looked upon by the administration in the same way that I look at it. It seems unlikely that they will willingly fork over the cash. This IS CementLand^TM after all. However, and I am still working out this theory, when I point out the other ways that they have screwed me over I am sure that a mere $26.13 will seem like a bargain. The whole Co-op shenanigans for example. How much do you make during a Co-op semester? I don’t know, but it is more than $26.13 I think. The lies and misinformation I was given by people (presumably well intentioned although…) concerning co-op make me even more earnest in demanding my $26.13 back. Now, of course, I am not serious about actually sending CementLand^TM bill for this. They could turn on me and I am sure that the huge CementLand^TM monster would crush me in some manner or another. Its just a thought. Maybe I’ll send the bill under another name?

Wish I had the guts to try that. Maybe that sort of gutsy move is something that I can work into my resume?

Life is something to do when you can’t get to sleep.

So late last week I visited the Guinness Book of Records site. I was eagerly anticipating reading the world record for the “most papers written in a week”. Sadly, they didn’t seem to have this category. There were, of course, ample records announcing that it took 49 days for Bill Kilborne to walk on his knees from Perth to Darwin, and that Kim Friesen managed to hoover up 30 grapefruit rinds with her nostrils in 2 hours. Bitter and disappointed, I turned my attention to writing my final paper of the semester, disturbed that it would not be breaking any world-wide endurance records.

You see, in one week, 7 days, 1/52 of a year, I wrote FOUR papers, and did two presentations. Well, I didn’t do the last presentation, but that’s just a formality. More on that later. However, I did push the limits, attempting to break my own personal record for sleep deprivation. This was a fascinating, if somewhat unnerving experience.

It all started on the 23^rd of November. I had a presentation for my Limnology paper to do. 10 minutes plus 5 for questions. Piece of cake, panic attacks excluded. So I did it, and contrary to my visions prior to it actually transpiring, I did manage to survive the experience. Someone suggested that I get out of it by crying and running from the room. This seemed slightly…. excessive to say the least. Really though, it wasn’t as like I thought about it for any great deal of time.

Next, I went to work on the Lim paper due Sunday. So I exalted the horrors of acid mine drainage’s effects on aquatic ecosystems in around 15 pages. Wonderful. Due on Tuesday afternoon was the paper for Psychology 375 (Clinical Psychology). So, I wrote 10 pages about depression treatment efficacies. The only hitch was that I had to hand it 3 rough drafts. I haven’t produced a rough draft since high school, so I manufactured them after the fact. Hope nobody from there reads this. They are trying to get the cheaters. May they all rot in hell (the cheaters).

Everything was going according to plan. The only problems was the time frame of the next two papers. BISC 404 (Plant ecology) was due on Thursday morning, while psychology 384 (Developmental Psychobiology) presentation AND paper were due on Friday morning. So I wrote my paper on plant associations for plant ecology, and handed it in on time. Cognitively, I was still going strong, though I had started to feel a little tired as I had labored up at CementLand^TM from 8 in the morning to 12 midnight for the last few days. Still, things were looking up. I had only one more paper (and a presentation) to go.

This was where all the wheels started to come off the bus…

I got up Thursday morning at 5am to put the finishing touches on my plant paper, did so, and handed it in. Then, after the hellish monotony of another 4 hours of lectures, I headed, once again, down to the CementLand^TM library’s airless computer bunker. Oh sure, I have a great computer at home, but I just cannot concentrate at home. Sue me. Others have threatened to for less.

So I blew through the first 4 pages of my paper entitled : Effect of Mercury Neurotoxicity on Behaviour and Brain Structures. I know you think this sounds exciting, but you’d be wrong. It started off fine until I hit a wall at around 10:00 P.M. I just couldn’t think anymore. I had only 5 pages done, and when I got kicked out at closing time, I still only had 5.5 pages done. This was hour 19 of straight consciousness. So, a fellow inmate ( psych 384) and I (who, oddly enough was writing a paper on sleep deprivation) headed to a computer lab that was (ahem) unlocked in order to finish writing papers. Everything went to hell. I really couldn’t think anymore, and every word was a struggle. So, finally, at 5:30 in the morning, hour 24.5, I finished my paper. This was the start of something interesting.

I went home, changed, came back to school, handed my paper in, and attempted to formulate my presentation that was supposed to happen at 10:30 A.M. My eyes were so sensitive to light I couldn’t look at an overhead projector, and I was unable to form complete sentences. Well, that isn’t unusual, but this time it was particularly severe. It looked like the people in that particular tutorial were going to get quite a show. They didn’t, because for 2% of my tutorial grade I was not going to make a colossal fool of myself. So I just didn’t go at all. Oh well. The rest of the morning consisted of writing a limnology lab up, and then going to all the rest of the limnology presentations that had not been done the week before. This lasted until 6, hour 36.

When I got home, I realized that I was on the edge of something big. I had been up for 36 hours, and what little was left of my brain was starting to unravel like TA marking his 70^th paper in a row. It was time to push the limits of my endurance.

It was time to destroy the bus.

I remembered back in earlier days in when I was at College when I had stayed up for 49 hours. This was not due to circumstances completely under my control, but managing to survive the earlier experience, I wished to repeat it for, uhm, scientific purposes. Already being at hour 36, another 13 hours didn’t seem unattainable. In short, I was curious just how deranged I could get. I took notes. Thankfully I do not own a video camera.

What followed, I can only describe it as the way it must feel to be slowly going mad. Actually, I quite enjoyed it, sad to say. To realize that I didn’t have the fullest grip on reality was quite a liberating experience right up until the point where I tried to grab the background of a web-page with my hand and caused some damage in the process. To my finger, thankfully, the computer monitor is just fine (but probably a bit confused).

Hour 38 had to stop watching TV as it was too bright and I couldn’t really see the picture anymore anyway. So I listened to the crap that is there on a Friday night. It sounds worse that it… looks.

Hour 40 I was starting to feel tired. So I decided to go for a run, hoping to invoke the invigorating qualities that I had enjoyed before. Sadly, this proved to be rather faulty logic. I turned back after a block or two. I nearly ran into a parked car (my own).

Hour 42 Laying on the couch, I was still listening to the television. Had visions of baking cookies, but I couldn’t find a recipe. Thankfully. I don’t have the ingredients for cookies.

Hour 47 I wrote a song in a program called ACID. This was interesting, but is likely the worst piece of muck I have ever produced, and I have created some doozies!.

Hour 48 I got a bit of a second (sixth?) wind. I realized that breaking my record was close at hand. It was nearly mine!

Hour 48, 30 minutes I started jumping around, I was afraid that I would fall asleep.

Hour 48, 50 minutes I told myself that I was just going to lie on the floor for a few minutes. Sadly, this is when I lost the battle. I woke up 20 minutes later, but the dream was over. I was mad. I was lying on the kitchen floor.

I know when I am beaten, so I just went to bed. Oddly enough, I couldn’t sleep. Curiosity killed the cat.

It is interesting. I have heard that physical changes start happening in the brain after 56 hours. It starts going to “mush” apparently. I can only imagine what that must be like, but I gather I don’t want to find out. I wrote an entry for this page near the end, but you don’t want to read it. Really, you don’t.

Its too bad that an earlier edition of this update was lost due to a tragic power loss during saving of the file. I hate computers – they are evil! I could only recover a few sentences from the broken and battered file I found after I rebooted. You have been deprived of one of the funniest rants I have ever written. A minute of silence….

I haven’t been updating much because school work has reared its ugly head once again. I have four papers and two presentations to do in the next 13 days. The CementLand^TM “library” hasn’t been helping out much either. A library is somewhere you can find books. Most of the books and journal articles I want I have to go to UBC for. This is why I use the term “library” loosely in this context.

For the last two weeks or so there has been a Translink display outside of the library. I suppose us students are supposed to “ohh” and “ahhh” over the fancy architectural designs that these new rapid transit stations offer. Why do each of these have to be an architectural “marvel”? I asked the representative if this was the most cost effective way of doing it. “Oh, that’s what the people wanted!”, she said. Right. For articles on this, I refer you to a journal in the library. Apparently, this would be the most fitting place to comment on both the CementLand^TM library AND Translink.

Another interesting thing is that Translink’s President or whatever claims he doesn’t ride the very system he is in charge of because it is “inconvenient” and not “fast enough”. Really? That’s why us common folk don’t ride it either?!! His idea as to how to pay for all this “upgrading” is to impose a vehicle levy of around $75 for every vehicle in the area “served” by Translink. This is all under the banner of punishing those horrible polluting cars and get everyone to ride the bus. This, despite the fact that transit is “inconvenient” and not “fast enough”. New SUV’s (Suburban Ugly Vehicle’s) are charged more than Uncle Bobs ’82 Honda Civic with the rotting muffler simply because they weigh more. Now, lets say you live in Langley, a suburb of Vancouver. Langley is under the stranglehold of Translink just as Vancouver is. However, there is very little resembling a bus system in Langley. Where I grew up, a bus comes by in the morning, and comes back at night. Apparently, this is “convenient” and “fast enough” to the point where people out there should pay the same as someone living in Vancouver where a bus ambles by every 10 minutes.

However – don’t despair you Langley living persons!!! I’m sure that all the money from your transit levies will go to getting YOU, the people who need it, the bus service you are paying extra for! I’m sure that it won’t go to simply covering the cost of flagrant cosmetic fanaticism of the new skytrain stations! Then you can join the happy hordes that have horrible and frustrating bus experiences every day!

The year I rode the bus to CementLand^TM was one full of rich “learning” experiences. I learned a lot about human behaviour, misbehavior, and psychosis. The bus to CementLand^TM wasn’t quite as bad as it is in other places, though I did manage to overhear a great number of interesting things. Sometimes you just get one quote out of the person and then their voice wafts back into the vocal flotsam and you never hear another word from them.

“If it wasn’t for my horse I would never have gone to University”
“And then Uncle Frank said : put down the plunger”!
“If its tourist season why can’t we shoot them”?
“I think Jason still thinks I’m female” “I can’t decide if I want to marry Frank or Brian”
“All the really GOOD sentences start with So. Don’t they”?

And so on….

Then there was the time when I came back from a late night in Vancouver on the bus than runs up Hastings Street. This was at 1:00 AM. I don’t recommend this, but if I hadn’t done it – I might never have met Santa Claus. So when jolly old St. Nick joined me on the otherwise empty bus he sat right next to me. Not only did this fellow wear a Santa suit in the middle of June on a hot and muggy night, he actually (apparently) believed that he WAS Santa Claus! Strange, all the other schizophrenics wore normal clothing. He even asked me what I wanted for Christmas. “World Peace” I said. I don’t think that was the best choice of answers. He seemed to get agitated and said : “Man! I’m not JESUS”. Really? Were you LAST week?

Remember to take your medication boys and girls. I should have asked him why he was riding the bus. Where were the reindeer?

So the other week I actually rode the bus even though I have a fully functional car. I was in the mood for excitement! (sad… I know). Unfortunately, as these things usually go when they are forced, nothing interesting happened unless you count the new hat I bought at MEC. Mr. Excitement.

So, and as all good sentences start with “so” – I’ll tell you a bus story from someone I know at CementLand^TM. I listened to this story, and while I did not ask permission to use it here, I will repeat it anyway. May she never find it written here.

She was sitting on the bus going home from CementLand^TM. She was absentmindedly rubbing her foot up and down the leg of the seat in front of her as she read some kind of book. When the next stop came, the guy in the seat in front of her got up, turned around, and gave her a really big smile, shook his head, and left. At that point, much to her horror, she realized that it was not the leg of the bus that she had been rubbing against. I can only imagine what was going through the mind of the guy in front of her. The guy across the aisle from her kept looking at her after that. I have had some damn uncomfortable bus rides, but nothing quite as embarrassing as that. Hmmm….

After the hooting and knee slapping had died down, I introduced the concept of Frotteurism, and unfortunately had to explain what it was. Even more unfortunate was that the response was : “Oh, it sounds like you know…”. Well, how do I respond to that? Obviously, I pointed out that this knowledge was the result of taking many psychology classes, an explanation that only resulted in more and questioning and lame defenses on my part. Unfortunately, none of my defenses “took”. I guess I make good sport.

So fear not Langley SUV owners! Your faithful regurgitation of funds when they are required of you will go towards enriching the lives of those in the big city! Think of the entertainment that our faithful bus system will give us! Think of the joy the fancy new skytrain stations will bring! Wow!

Last weekend I took another trip to the Safeway in Aldergrave. I have been known to have “interesting” things happen when at these sorts of places, and this was no exception. In fact, it was probably more frustrating than usual.

So I walk in the door. I look for one of those basket thingys (technical terminology is dizzying I realize). I have never gotten one of those carts, perhaps owing to a traumatic experience about 15 years ago, I cannot be sure. At any rate, I only needed to get a few items, and I was not interesting in juggling them all the time, so I needed a basket. There weren’t any.

I asked an employee who was standing next to the front door where I might find one. He looked around, said that they must all be with customers at the moment. Right, whatever. I decided that I could track one down on my own. I did – there was a stack of them next to one of the checkouts. However, when I tried to retrieve one, this lady started badgering me about budging in line. She said all kinds of things. Then she accused me of this while addressing the cashier – who told me I needed to go to the back of the line. Strangely enough this cashier was someone I went to high school with. Very difficult person to deal with at the best of times. A mood with more swings than a playground. IN a shallow attempt to make myself feel better I noted that she at least was fat and acne’d now. I tried to explain that I wasn’t jumping the line but I eventually decided that going to another line would be quite simply less frustrating as the crazy-line-lady was getting more belligerent. Someone needs to go back onto their medication!

So at the other lineup I found the baskets. The only problem was that this lady was letting her two demon spawn play in them at the moment. I asked if I could get in there to get a basket. She said : “but my kids are playing in it”!!! Apparently this meant that I could not utilize it for it INTENDED PURPOSE! Silently, and in my mind I was screaming and muttering…. This wasn’t exactly a textbook basket retrieval. Since there are now alternatives to Safeway in Aldergrave, I just decided to go and get as many items as I could comfortably carry and flee to another store for the rest. Thankfully, I didn’t even attempt to pay with my debit card, or I am sure that there would be a whole story there too!

Another thing of note at the Safeway was the someone had mutilated all the pizza shells. Strangely, this was the case at the other store as well. Aldergrave is not the best place to live, even though I have limited knowledge of this since I only lived there for 3 months over three years ago. A lot of whackos there, especially late at night.

I recently took great satisfaction in completing a survey that allowed me to completely vent as to what I thought about SFU. Perhaps this was magnified by the fact that I had just gone through he ordeal of an advisory appointment with the Biology department, and things did not start off well. First, I go into the office in the morning and ask who I might talk to in order to determine if I have all my courses:

“Well”, she said, “Mr. Medford (the advisor) won’t be back until the 15th of December”.

Me: Is there anyone else who can do it?

Advisory secretary: No.

Me: You see, I really need to know now because I want to know if I need another semester or not.

Advisory secretary: How many credits do you have?

Me: Don’t know exactly – around 140

Advisory secretary: Oh, you should be fine! (as if credit hour totals were all that mattered!!!! @*&!% !!!).

Then she turns away as if the conversation is over.

Me: “I really need to know about individual courses. Are you sure there isn’t anybody who is here that I could talk to before December”?

Advisory secretary: Well, I could give you an appointment with Mr. Medford this afternoon. Would that be all right?

I felt like yelling things but I didn’t.

This is a typical conversation with an SFU bureaucrat. This particular person has screwed me over before – because of her incompetence I have spent weeks trying to undo what I did in the wake of her advice. It is also a reason that I get a little bitter from time to time. Its very common up there. The actual appointment went quite well, and I got all the information I wanted despite their attempts to keep it from me.

So when I got hold of this survey I ran amok in the “do you have any further comments” section. I basically told them that academically this is a fine school. The problems I had were that students are frequently presented grossly inaccurate advice by those who are in charge of this information. These mistakes have cost me, by my estimation, thousands of dollars as well as a large amount of wasted time. My personal favorite was :” No, we don’t offer bursaries this semester” (a lie). Apparently though, this is ANY university, so I guess I can’t complain too loudly.

Another recent incident has to do with the recent American election. First they said that Gore had Florida, then he didn’t, then it was even, then Bush had it, now…… who knows. They (CNN among others) even declared Bush president. Can’t you just all sit back and wait until they count ALL the votes? At the very least this whole fiasco might finally teach Americans that YOUR vote counts too (and I don’t pretend that Canadians don’t need this lesson as well…).